The Essence of Time
by An Angel and a Rose
Summary: "Neither can live while the other survives…" was that it? Was Voldemort prophesied to be the survivor? Was Ginny cursed to feel the weight of his presence for the rest of her days? Fear was eating her from inside and was threatening to overcome her. She had to be sure and so she stood up, a cold sense of resolve building inside of her, fighting the overwhelming, overpowering fear.
1. At first came the end

**AN: I am not JKR but wish I would have her imagination and dedication. As it stands, I do not own anything but the plot of this story.**

**This came to me quite suddenly and I just had to write it. I have drafted a few ideas for future scenes too so I hope you will enjoy! English is my second language, I will take any comments on my phrasing and spelling as a chance to improve so feel free to comment if you spot anything!**

**Enjoy, **

**Rose**

* * *

**At first came the end**

She was walking in a daze along the dimly lit corridors. The moonlight sometimes came to rest on the bodies of fallen friends and foes. Each human shape looked even paler in the eerie glow of the moon. She felt sick. Each new lifeless form crushed a little bit more the hope she had left to find survivors. She hated the moon.

She sighed, her throat tightening painfully as she tried to swallow back her tears. Now was not the time to let them go. She lowered herself to uncover the face of another dead. The moonlight filtered through the broken wall just enough to reveal the identity of the young victim. Colin would not take another picture. A shocked expression on his face, he laid amongst the rubble, his camera a few feet away, shining in the nightly light. How she hated the moon right now.

She used to love the moon and its soft, once comforting, light. It used to be synonym of freedom, of innocent flights around her childhood home, away from the eyes of her brothers. What she would now give for them to see her, to call her, to tell her they were here, well and alive. She needed to find them.

Another body. A black cloak. A silver mask covered in dried, brown blood which only revealed a strand of black hair in a comical yet dramatic way. A morbid sense of curiosity overtook her and she pushed away the mask. A mild feeling of recognition. The man was young, no more than twenty odd years. Had he been a student when she had joined Hogwarts?

She closed her eyes and breathed, trying to ignore the heavy smell of dust, death and blood, as she needed to clear her thought and focus. But as she closed her eyes, a terrifying, smiling face came back to her mind. Bellatrix. Bellatrix laughing as she was torturing Tonks in her last moments, blood pouring from her shaking, barely living, body. Blood. Blood everywhere.

Her stomach clenched in revolt. Her whole body was shivering. She forced herself to move forward but froze almost immediately.

_His _voice resonated through the castle once more.

"Harry Potter is dead…"

She fell to her knees.

"He was killed whilst running away, trying to save his life as you were giving yours for him…"

She was frozen, terrified. The world must have stopped in that instant because she couldn't hear anything more even if somewhere at the back of her mind, she vaguely registered his voice continuing to spill its venom.

Harry could not be dead. He was supposed to beat Voldemort. It had to be a lie, a lie meant to discourage them, to convince them to give up completely. Harry had sworn, sworn to defeat Voldemort. Harry could not be dead. He had promised that he would end it. That the fight was worth it, that she would be freed from _his _influence… she could not live in a world where Voldemort won because that would be...

_Neither can live while the other survives…_ was that it? Was Voldemort prophesied to be the survivor? Was she cursed to feel the weight of his presence for the rest of her days?

She could not think clearly. Fear was eating her from inside and was threatening to overcome her. She had to be sure and so she stood up. A cold sense of resolve building inside of her, fighting the fear. Slowly, she placed one foot forward and started making her way towards the main entrance.

When she passed the imposing doors, she heard the hated, sadistic laugh again. _Bellatrix_. She looked over the crowd. _He_ was there, just a few feet away. Voldemort, or rather, a shadow of what used to be the powerful and charismatic Dark Lord Voldemort. But even as a shadow, he had won.

Behind the feared shadow of a man, she saw Hagrid. Noone would miss the half-giant standing in the crowd of wizards and witches. And that had been Voldemort's purpose. Everyone could see…

"Nooo!" she heard herself screaming.

In the arms of the broken, sweet, half-giant, was the lifeless body of Harry Potter - his hair a mess, his face covered in mud and blood.

Harry. Harry who was supposed to be the Chosen One. The One to defeat the Dark Lord. Had they been wrong? Had Dumbledore made a mistake? Voldemort survived. Harry was dead.

"Harry! HARRY!" her brother and Hermione screamed and it was like their scream had woken the crowd.

Screams and insults flew around her like curses but she barely registered them. All she saw was the realisation of her worst fears. The fears that had followed her from her first year at Hogwarts. She could not escape _him_ anymore. Tom had won. Voldemort was without opposition.

Her hand acted as if it had its own consciousness and caressed the pendant she wore. A memory flashed to her mind.

!

_The sun was high above the Burrow. _

_Hermione and her were sitting under her favourite oak tree, just atop a little hill which offered an almost limitless view of the countryside around her childhood home. School would start soon for the last few months of the year and Hermione had offered to help her revise for her OWLs. _

_At least that is what she was supposed to do. After asking her the same question for the third time, Ginny had taken the book from Hermione and place her hand on hers. _

"_Is everything alright, Hermione? You seem to be somewhere else."_

"_Sorry Ginny, I…" she hesitated. This was so unusual coming from Hermione that Ginny had felt on edge immediately, shifting slightly to get closer to her friend._

_Hermione had taken out a tiny bottle, filled with a dark purple liquid which shined in a way reminiscent of a night sky just before dawn came to replace it._

"_I don't think we will be back in Hogwarts next year," Hermione had continued._

"_But you haven't taken your NEWTs yet and mom…" Ginny had attempted, a sense of dread starting to grow in her._

_Hermione had shaken her head. "It is only a possibility, do not mention it to anyone, Gin, please!" _

_The frantic tone of her voice had told Ginny that it was more than a possibility but that secrecy was paramount. However, Hermione had apparently decided that Ginny should know. Ginny had squeezed Hermione's hand slightly and smiled reassuringly. Or she at least she had tried._

"_What is this?" Ginny had then asked, trying to encourage Hermione to continue._

"_It is a very unique potion… I had to… it's very unique." Hermione was clearly not ready - or able to tell her all the details. "It is an Essence of Time"_

_Ginny had frozen in place and Hermione had met her gaze, conscious of her younger friend's stillness._

"_It can take a person back in time, a few years back." she had explained, regaining her academic voice. "However for the essence to take effect, there must be a connection between the person who drinks it and the anchor."_

"_Anchor?"_

"_The reason the Essence of Time is so rare, so unique, is that it only allows souls that have a very special connection to find each other in time. The person who drinks it needs someone to act as an anchor of sort to pull them to the fabric of time." Hermione's voice had been but a murmur and Ginny had leaned towards her without thinking about it._

"_What are you trying to say Hermione? Why are you telling me this?"_

"_When Harry saved your life in the Chamber," she had looked apologetically at Ginny when she recoiled, the memory clearly still painful, "you created a life debt to him and you… well, you haven't repaid it yet."_

_Ginny had frowned. She had never thought of this. Harry had never mentioned it._

"_I believe from my research that this creates a connection between your souls until the debt is paid. This would fulfil the connection needed for the potion to work"_

"_I see," Ginny had said, understanding drawing upon her. "You want me to take the potion. Why? When would I go?"_

"_Yes, because Harry trusts you… He will listen to you. It would take you to the Chamber."_

"_The Chamber!" Ginny had cried, a shiver running down her spine._

"_Wait, listen to me, Gin," Hermione had pleaded. "You would go back to the Chamber and tell Harry what happened. You can help him make things right if we can't do it the first time. This is a last resort, hopefully it won't ever be needed," she reassured. "Meddling with time is dangerous. I would not encourage you to take that risk if there is a chance we can succeed naturally."_

!

The memory faded and Ginny's gaze fell on Voldemort, who had his wand pointed at Neville.

"... no more Sorting at Hogwarts. There won't be anymore houses. The crest and the colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin will suffice for all…"

They had lost. Harry was dead. Fred was dead, Lupin, Tonks… so many were gone forever and Voldemort had won. They had failed.

Amid the chaos, she found Hermione, who was already watching her. Their eyes met and she knew. It was time. Slowly, almost without thought, she reached for her pendant and opened the tiny bottle that was hanging on it.

She drank it, the content so minute that she could not taste it. She felt the burnt however. The overwhelming, powerful pain that took her away into the nothingness. Fear came.

She would have preferred to stay in the nothingness however. Suddenly an incredible sense of gravity crushed her, throwing her violently on the ground that had not been so far away in her last memory of life.

Struggling to steady her breath, she looked around her. There was too much light and she had to bat her eyelids several times before she could see where she was.

It was not the Chamber of Secrets.


	2. Lioness

**Chapter 2: Lioness**

Ginny had been sitting on the ground for an unclear length of time. She had lost track. Lost track of time, of space and most of all, of herself. Had she been more rested, she may have understood that the shock was finally taking over her and had she known about hormones, she could have analysed her reaction as the adrenaline leaving her body, leaving her limp and relatively helpless.

But she was safe. She knew she was safe.

In front of her, in the warming light of the rising sun, Hogwarts stood proudly, untouched, in all its splendour. There was still time. She could make things right.

Her right hand travelled up to her chest, where the little bottle that had contained the Essence rested. As she lowered her gaze to it, she vaguely registered the blood and dirt that had dried on her skin, making it look dry and dirty. The little bottle reminded her of what she had to do. Find Harry, Hermione and her annoying but unexpectedly brave brother Ron. The potion had worked. She was in the past. Hogwarts was whole. The battle had not happened.

However, she was not in the Chamber, as Hermione had predicted. Was she _in _the right time? Hermione had theorised that she would be taken at the time when the bond, the life debt she owed to Harry had been formed. It meant that her other self was 11 and her friends and brother just over a year older.

Taking in her appearance, she drew her wand from the sleeve of her jumper and cast a few cleaning charms on herself. When she was satisfied that blood, dirt and dust were taken care of, she then cast a general Reparo over her clothes. It would not last more than a couple of days but it would do for now. Checking the pocket of her robe, she found her hand mirror, which must have been affected by her Reparo as well, given its newfound shine. Looking at her reflection, she thought that she looked fine.

She stood up, slowly as she still felt the aftermath of her arrival. Steadying herself, she took a few steps towards the castle's gate. She would have to figure out what to do as she went.

Facing the central stairs, she wondered where to go. Where could she find Harry? And then she realised that finding him was only one part of the issue. Would she see herself too? Would she be in trouble for playing with time? What had Hermione said? She cursed internally. Find Harry, put things right. Simple. Yet oh so complicated.

Biting her bottom lip in a sign of anxiety, she suddenly felt overwhelmed by the gravity of her actions. _Meddling with time is dangerous_, had said Hermione. Ginny sight and decided to walk to the second floor. Maybe she was in the right time and would find Harry as he came up from the Chamber. That was her best bet.

"Miss?" a voice called in her back and she jumped, startled in her thoughts. "You should be in your Common Room, breakfast is not for another hour."

Ginny closed her eyes. There was something vaguely familiar in that voice but she could not place it.

"Are you alright? If you are going to the Hospital Wing, I will take you. Otherwise I am afraid I will have to take points off."

The voice was becoming closer as Ginny turned towards it. What, or rather who, she saw scared her more than her previous thoughts. Something had gone wrong, terribly so.

In front of Ginny, stood a very, very young version of Minerva McGonagall. Or a very young and very close relative of the Professor but somehow she doubted the latter.

Taking into her appearance, the young McGonagall took her wand out, however keeping it loosely by her side.

"Who are you?" she asked, suspicion clearly palpable in her intonation. "You are wearing the uniform of Gryffindor but I do not remember you at all"

Ginny remained speechless, her eyes fixed on the young McGonagall. She was wearing a Prefect badge. Looking at the shining brooch, fear started taking over Ginny once more.

"_The reason the essence of time is so rare, so unique, is that it only allows souls that have a connection to find each other in time." _Hermione's words came back to her mind. She needed a connection to anchor her travel. How could she have a connection to anyone in what appeared to be such a distant past?

If the girl in front of her really was McGonagall… When had she finished her studies? A very very long time ago was the only answer she could consider at the moment. What to do? What to say?

"I… I must speak to the Headmaster"

Dumbledore, she needed Dumbledore's help. He had been at Hogwarts forever, surely she could not have gone that far in time that he was not there yet.

The young McGonagall, as Ginny had named her in her head, looked torn between her obvious curiousity and her Prefect's duties.

"Well, I cannot take you to the Headmaster without a good reason…" She posed, waiting to see if the stranger would give her said reason before she continued. "However as you are out after curfew, I must take you to our Head of House." she looked suspiciously at the Gryffindor emblem on Ginny's robes, still doubting their genuinity.

The two teenage girls walked in silence towards the seventh floor and the Gryffindor Common Room. Ginny was trying to study the other girl's features, wanting to confirm her thoughts about the possible-McGonagall.

Ginny's throat was sore from the anxiety that was rising within her. She was still questioning her sanity for deciding to take a potion that noone had heard about in decades of not centuries. _There must have been a reason it was left to be lost in obscure literature,_ she chastised herself. But she trusted Hermione. She'd always been the reasonable member of the trio. Reasonable didn't equate to always right however.

An opening that started to appear in the wall with a shuffling sound of stone against stone brought her back to her current situation. In a similar fashion than in Diagon Alley, a passageway revealed itself behind the wall. The young McGonagall invited Ginny to go in first. She had never been to the Head of Gryffindor's quarters. This honor had been reserved to her twin brothers on one too many occasions, as well as, if the legend was to be believed, to her eldest brother Bill, who had done something so unforgivable that their mother had made it taboo to even mention. Of course, they knew every little detail of that famous story. They were just careful to never talk of it where their mother could hear it.

Shortly after the young McGonagall had knocked the door leading to the quarters themselves, the door opened to reveal the exact person Ginny had wanted to see. Albus Dumbledore. A brief wave of relief went through her and she suddenly felt the tiredness start to win over the adrenaline that remained in her body.

However, the feeling that something was amiss was reinforced. Dumbledore wasn't old enough. Oh he was definitely old. Very much so. But not old enough for her to have landed in May 1993. His hair was still a shade of red that started to mix with the occasional white. But he looked about 15 or 20 years older than her father, which would make Dumbledore to be in his sixties…

"Miss McGonagall, a pleasure as always," he greeted, confirming Ginny's suspicion that the girl next to her was indeed her future Transfiguration Professor. "And who is your young friend?" He enquired curiously, acknowledging the unknown presence.

"I am not sure, Professor. She was near the Great Hall and would not tell me anything about why she was out before the end of curfew so I brought her to you." Her explanation was factual and already reflected her love for 'appropriate' behaviour. "She's wearing our tie, even though her uniform is a little unconventional and I do not recall ever seeing her, I thought it best to bring her to you."

Ginny looked closer to McGonagall and noticed that indeed, their uniforms differed. Her robes were fairly similar except for McGonagall 's ones highlighting her waist slightly, in a feminine but modest way that suited a schoolgirl. However, the collar of her shirt was wider and rounded, which was definitely different to the one Ginny was wearing. The most obvious difference is that she was not wearing a tie but some sort of thin scarf which rested in a perfect bow over her chest. From what Ginny could see under McGonagall's robes, she was also wearing a midi length dress rather than a skirt and jumper.

Ginny looked up towards Dumbledore and felt his attempt to 'brush' her thoughts. She recognised the feeling because Snape had tried it on her many times during her sixth year. Instinctively, she tried to resist by pushing innocent memories to the front of her mind. She didn't have the power to focus for long however and after a few seconds, the image of Hogwarts' destruction resurfaced without much propping from Dumbledore. It was followed by the bodies, Fred, Tonks, Harry… and by the inhuman laugh of Voldemort. A blood freezing laugh.

Ginny closed her eyes, wishing the memories away.

"You may go back to your Head Girl's rounds, Miss McGonagall," Dumbledore dismissed.

"Good day, Professor."

Ginny could not hear any words after that but the sound of the door closing indicated that McGonagall must have left. A light pressure on her shoulder brought her back to focus. Her head snapped and Dumbledore smiled kindly at her.

"Take a seat, Miss." He indicated a plush sofa on her right and after a gesture of encouragement, Ginny took the offered seat. It felt warm and she relaxed in the softness of the cushions. "Take this, I find that a cup of warm cocoa helps in the direst of situations." Ginny looked up to the man who smiled again. "Except if you prefer a cup of lemon tea?" He offered his own cup. "I'm afraid you may find it too sweet for your taste but I, myself, find sweet lemon the best comfort."

A chuckle actually passes Ginny' s lips as she took a sip of the hot chocolate. "Thank you, Professor."

As she started her second, apparently, self-refilling cup of the comforting drink, Ginny finally found the courage to speak. "Which year are we in, Professor?"

"Interesting phrasing, Miss." Dumbledore looked at her over his half-moon spectacles. "We are in 1942."

Ginny placed the cup on a side table which had just appeared between her and the Professor. Her hands were shaking.

"May I ask when the destruction of Hogwarts happened?"

"May 1998"

Silence.

"Can I go home?" Her voice was but a whisper.

"I am afraid it will be complicated, if not impossible depending on how you found yourself in this situation, Miss…?"

"Weasley, Ginny Weasley."

Dumbledore nodded his head. "Miss Weasley, I will do my best to help you." Ginny felt an ounce of hope for the first time that day. "At the moment, I do believe you will need rest. Let us go to the Hospital Wing." She followed hime, grateful to have found support.

Less than twenty minutes later, she was deep asleep.

* * *

AN: For this story, McGonagall was born in 1925 rather than 1935. It is not the biggest of changes but I know some of you might tell me off so sorry in advance :)

I apologise for taking long to update. I hope to not leave too much of a gap in the future. Life has just been unkind these last few weeks. Writing helps even if only a little every day.

Thanks to my reviewers, I cannot answer guests but I am grateful :) :) :)

Do let me know your thoughts! Is Ginny in character so far? What do you think will happen?

Rose


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